


Vegas, Baby!

by VerityR



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Tumblr made me do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 09:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerityR/pseuds/VerityR
Summary: Big ups to stoprobbers, without whom this would never have left my WIP folder. Hope you liiiiiiiike it!Tracklisting: Viva Las Vegas- Elvis Presley, Wives and Lovers- Dionne Warwick, Chapel of Love- The Dixie Cups, Take My Breath Away- Berlin





	Vegas, Baby!

>   _Bright light city gonna set my soul,_
> 
> _Gonna set my soul on fire._
> 
> _Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn,_
> 
> _So get those stakes up higher._

It wasn’t like they had planned on getting hitched in Vegas. Frankly, not having to plan was sort of the beauty of a chapel that offered drive-thru services. They were only in town for some old-school monster hunting. And it’d happened to go way much more smoothly than anticipated.

“Lucas paged,” Jonathan said, when they had a second to catch their breath. “They found it. Few miles north.”

“So we’re done?”

“For now, yeah. They’ll call after El closes it. I think they’re waiting for Kali to show.”

Nancy had just decapitated one of the creatures— bigger than the demodogs, but smaller than the demogorgon. Now they stood, covered in red desert dirt, the week they’d taken off in anticipation stretching out in front of them.

“The things I do for a vacation,” she quipped, wiping monster blood off her machete before stuffing it in its holster.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

It took her a second to process his words.

“What?”

He grinned, wide and goofy, the way Nancy hadn’t even known he could back when they were Just Friends, capital J, capital F.

“You heard me.”

“I’m drenched in blood and sweat. I haven’t slept in thirty-two hours. I literally cannot remember the last time I brushed my teeth.”

“It was Thursday morning.”

“You’re insane.” Nancy wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jonathan pressed a kiss to her crown.

“How much?”

He moved to their rental car, fishing garbage bags from the trunk.

“Enough that I’m going to bag this thing all by myself.”

“Enough to marry me?”

Jonathan dropped the bags. “Like, now?”

Nancy chewed a hangnail. Probably not the most sanitary, considering where those hands had just been.

“Well, we should probably get this thing on ice first.”

“And ship it to Dustin at the lab.”

She nodded. “But then?”

Jonathan knelt to get a hold of the demo-something. Probably Dustin already had some D&D name for this variety. Nancy made a mental note to ask him when they met to debrief.  Honestly, it was a good thing their outfit operated strictly outside the purview of the law, or else they’d be getting a cease and desist from Gary Gygax any day now.

“No Elvis impersonators, all right?”

“He said yes!” Nancy bowled him over, kissing his nose, cheeks, neck.

“Nance, give it a— ” Jonathan was laughing too hard to speak. He settled for clutching her closer.

Nancy was straddling him now, grin spread across her face, hands on his chest.

“You’re hard.”

“What can I say?” Jonathan replied, his voice tight with restraint. “Matrimony really gets me going. You wanna get off of me now? Before we get arrested for public indecency?”

“Do you want me to?” She was almost purring. “I mean, you already promised to make an honest woman out of me.”

“You really want to fuck me next to a monster corpse in the desert before we get married?”

“I always want to fuck you.” Nancy brushed her sweaty bangs off her forehead. “When you say it like that, it sounds weird.”

“You _are_ weird,” Jonathan said, wrestling away from her.

“But you love me.”

“Yes. Hold open the bag, will you?”

Nancy did. Jonathan scooped the remains of her kill in the bag and knotted it shut.

“And you’re gonna marry me,” she said, sticking a thumb through his belt loop.

“As soon as you take a shower.”

“And we put this in a cooler.”

They hopped into the car, monster corpse safely stored in the trunk. Nancy drove.

“We’re really doing this, huh?”

Jonathan smiled, but he was drumming his fingers against the dash incessantly, a sure sign he was feeling the same nervous energy she was.

“Not gonna punk out on me now, are you, Wheeler?”

Nancy scoffed.

“I’m the one who asked! Plus, you’re the one who’s going to have to take the heat from Joyce when she founds out we got married without telling anyone.”

“Oh, as if Karen’s not going to— wait, do I have to call my mom?”

“I’m thinking if we wait, no one can try and convince us to drop thousands of bucks on an excuse for an open bar.”

“Point taken. Turn left.”

“I’m not taking that way.”

“It’s faster if— ”

“No backseat driving. We’re putting that in the vows.”

Jonathan made a strangled noise.

“You’re suggesting we write our own vows in the next— when are we doing this?”

Nancy hummed, wiping some of the dust off the clock. “It’s half past two now, and it’s gonna be an hour til we’re back on the strip, plus we should give ourselves some time to shower— ”

“And get ice.”

“And get ice,” she agreed. “So we’ll say six? That’s plenty of time. We have this whole car ride to brainstorm.”

“What’s wrong with the normal vows?”

Nancy looked at him and gasped, clutching a hand to her chest in a display of mock-histrionics that was not, all things considered, very safe for the other drivers on the road.

“Jonathan Byers, suggesting we go the _conventional_ route?”

“Nancy Wheeler, suggesting we buck tradition?”

“You don’t care about tradition,” Nancy fired back, swerving slightly as she regripped the wheel. “You’re just worried _my_ vows are going to blow _your_ vows out of the water.”

“Oh, is that what I’m worried about?” His mouth twitched with amusement. “Not making sure that, you know, the foundation of our marriage isn’t scrawled on the back of a El Pollo Loco napkin?”

“Awwww.” Nancy poked him in the ribs. “You liiiiiiiike me.”

Jonathan shut his eyes.

“You want to marry meeeee.”

He inhaled deeply.

“You called vows the foundation of a maaaaaaarriage.”

“Because they are!” Jonathan protested, finally rising to the bait.

Nancy snorted. “Dork.”

“Why do you want us to write them ourselves, then?”

“Well, I have certain demands.” Nancy attempted to keep her tone deadpan, but she could tell her grin was giving the game away.

“Should’ve guessed.” Jonathan inclined his head, gesturing for her to go on.

“For one thing, you have to let me drive.”

“What, all the time?”

“’Til death to do us part, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Dunno about that one.” Jonathan craned his body to reach for a duffel in the backseat, rooting around before locating their stash of monster-hunting road trip snacks. “You’re not a very good driver.”

“I am _not_ a bad driver!” Nancy protested, watching as Jonathan popped an entire Twinkie in his mouth at once and swallowed it, seemingly without any chewing at all. “And you’re disgusting, you know that?”

“Put it in the vows if you’ve got a problem with it.”

Nancy harrumphed. So, she’d only learned to drive when she was twenty-two and didn’t have much practice, since they didn’t have a car in Chicago. Everyone had always driven her around! And at least she chewed her gas station snack foods before swallowing them!

Jonathan rubbed her knee through the hole in her jeans. They weren’t the same ones from high school, obviously— she’d left her metabolism somewhere in the Reagan administration— but it was another one of the tiny traditions that kept them sane in their very insane line of work: Nancy only broke out her jeans when she had shit to kick.

“Look,” he said, voice low and sweet, “How about I up the ante? Like, I’ll vow to cook, or whatever.”

“Oh, as if. You just want to get out of eating my food! Just because— ” Nancy was about to launch into a rant about how Jonathan simply didn’t value _creativity_ in cooking, but cut herself short. “Oh, up the ante.” She snorted. “I just got that.”

Jonathan looked proud of himself, taking a swig of flat Tab. _Too_ proud of himself.

“I will not be distracted by gambling puns, mister!”

“Won’t you?”

“Here I am, a blushing bride— ”

Jonathan choked laughing, spraying soda on the dash.

“A _blushing bride_ ,” Nancy pressed on, ignoring the way Jonathan’s shoulders were still shaking with laughter, even as he sopped up the mess with El Pollo Loco napkins that were definitely not going to have their vows on them now. “Awaiting what I had _assumed_ would be a lifetime of wedded bliss, only to find out my groom hates my cooking and my driving.”

“I said only said you weren’t a very _good_ driver,” Jonathan corrected, unable to wipe the grin off his face completely. “You’re not bad. Per se.”

“And my cooking?” Nancy stuck out her lower lip.

“I’ve never had any complaints about your toast.”

“I made coq au vin, like, a week ago!”

“Like I said.” Jonathan kissed her cheek. “Your toast? Out of this world.”

She huffed, speeding around the red coupe that was dragging ass in front of them.

“I bet Julia Child never had to deal with this shit.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with distributing household tasks based on our individual strengths and weaknesses,” Jonathan said, rubbing at his camera lens with the hem of his shirt, revealing stomach that Nancy still couldn’t help but look at. “God, this is going to be a bitch to clean.”

“You’ve been watching too much Oprah. And you shouldn’t bring your camera to the _desert_ if you don’t want sand to get in it.”

“No such thing as too much Oprah,” Jonathan replied, ignoring her other comment. They both knew it was a moot point. Jonathan was going to bring a camera everywhere they went, and he was going to complain when it inevitably got dinged up. “God, now I’m just thinking about how she was robbed for _The Color Purple_ and I’m mad again.”

“She split the vote with Margaret Avery,” Nancy pointed out, as she had the last thousand times the topic had come up. “It wasn’t going to happen.”

“It should’ve won something! It was the best movie of the year! Ebert agrees with me.”

“Ebert never refills the ice tray in the break room,” she replied, with some bitterness. “He has his flaws.”

“What was, then? And don’t say _Top Gun_.”

Nancy cackled. “Oh shit, that reminds me! I seem to remember a bet you lost— ”

Jonathan groaned.

“—a bet, where, upon your shameful defeat, you agreed our wedding song would be the _Top Gun_ theme.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You can’t welch on me! Besides, you already said yes!” She reminded him, wickedly. “There’s no backing out now.”

“We don’t even have rings or anything yet,” Jonathan pointed out. “Functionally, nothing has changed.”

“Except now you’re my _fiancé_.”

“For the next four hours at least,” he said, dryly. “Are we going to get rings?”

Nancy sucked in her cheeks slowly, releasing them with a theatrical pop.

“Hadn’t thought about it.”

“You don’t say.”

“We could be edgy and get matching tattoos instead,” she suggested, grinning broadly.

“I’m starting to think you’re using me to rebel against your parents, Ms. Wheeler.”

“God, that’s another thing!” Nancy exclaimed, hitting the steering wheel with the heel of her palm. “Am I taking your last name?”

“If you want to do the paperwork, I guess.” Jonathan attempted to roll down the window, only to find the crank was stuck. “Remind me why we rented this piece of shit?”

“Because you insisted the Hertz guy was trying to upsell us and we had to go that shady place I found in the yellow pages?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jonathan winced, rubbing his temples. “Remind me why I’m so cheap?”

Nancy took his hand and kissed the knuckles. “Because otherwise I would spend us out of house and home.”

“Give yourself some credit, Nance. You’ve done some masterful coupon clipping lately.”

He squeezed her hand twice, before dropping it, which was usually Nancy’s cue to complain. But today it too goddamn _hot_ for any prolonged contact.

“Yeah, only because you were always forgetting to bring them.”

“Strengths and weaknesses, Nance. That’s what it’s all about.” He rapped his fingers against the dashboard. “Do you want to change your name?”

“Well, I wouldn’t change my byline,” Nancy said, distractedly, signalling as she made a turn. “I guess it doesn’t really matter unless we had kids.”

“The Wheeler-Byerses,” he said, testing it out. “Bit of a mouthful. I dunno.”

Nancy waved a hand. “We’ll make that decision impulsively when we get to it. Do you want to get rings? That’ll bump our ETA back a bit, but it’s workable.”

“I kind of thought… ” Jonathan squirmed. “Well, I have some cash saved in case you want one, but if you don’t… ”

Nancy’s face split into a smile. “You big _sap!_ ” She hit his thigh. “Have you been planning this? Did I steal your thunder? We can redo it, I won’t tell.”

“No, this was good.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly, that was the part I was dreading.”

“What, was I going to do, say no?” Nancy’s hand was still on his thigh, tracing lazy patterns.

“Hands on the wheel,” Jonathan chided her. “You _could’ve_. Besides, I wouldn’t have known what to say.”

She stuck her tongue out, before returning her hands to the proper ten-and-two position.

“It’s a good thing I acted, then. You would’ve just tried to kissed me out of the blue. Again.”

Jonathan cringed at the mention of their adolescent awkwardness.

“I don’t think kissing you has the same surprise factor it once did.”

“Yeah, it was an inherently flawed plan.”

“Although, in my defense, it did work the first time.”

“It could’ve worked faster. If we’d actually talked, say, a year earlier.” Nancy looked out the window, corners of her mouth turning down.

“Hey,” Jonathan bumped his knee against hers. “We’re doing the whole ‘til death do us part’ thing tonight, remember? What’s a year, in the scheme of things?”

“A year is a lot,” Nancy maintained, eyes dark. “Which is why I’m having us permanently yoked together.”

“Life is short. Get married by Elvis,” he quipped.

“Have you changed your mind of the Elvis front?” Nancy lightened considerably. “I’d love to hear the King's interpretation of _Take My Breath Away_.”

Jonathan groaned.

 

> _Hey, little girl, better wear something pretty._
> 
> _Something you wear to go to the city._
> 
> _Dim all the lights, pour the wine, start the music._
> 
> _Time to get ready for love._

“What do you think,” Jonathan said with a grin, as they waited in line for a room. “Single or double this time?”

Nancy pretended to think about it, tapping a finger against her chin.

“Hmm, there’s no ring on my finger yet. What will they think of us?”

“What happens in Vegas… ” He shrugged.

“Excuse you, what’s about to happen in Vegas is a legally binding document! A sacred covenant, in fact!” Nancy paused briefly, flipping a page in the pamphlet she’d swiped. “Oh, actually, scratch that last part. That’s only if we spring for a minister instead of an officiant.”

“So a double, then?” Jonathan kept his voice low as he slung his arm around her neck and even though there was nothing particularly lascivious about his tone, she had goosebumps.

“Well, we do have to consummate the relationship,” Nancy murmured back. “Otherwise, what’s to stop me from getting an annulment?”

His mouth quirked. “I seem to remember consummating our relationship a while back. Vodka was involved.”

“Not ringing a bell.” Nancy beamed. “You’ll have to remind me.”

“We’ll take a single,” Jonathan said to the clerk. The woman rolled her eyes, but gave them their keys.

The hotel wasn’t fancy enough for a helpful concierge, but the clerk had grudgingly told them where they could find a pawn shop nearby.

“We don’t have to get one now,” Jonathan said, not for the first time, holding open the car door. “If you want a nicer one, we can wait… ”

“So you keep assuring me. I’m not marrying you for your money, babycakes.”

Jonathan grimaced.

“C’mon, all married couples have sickening pet names!”

He shook his head, too disgusted to respond.

“Snookums? Pumpkin? Tell me if any of these are jumping out at you.”

“Oh, they’re all jumping out at me,” Jonathan muttered, as they made their way into the grimy little shop. Half of the lights seemed to be off, the cottage cheese ceiling was splattered with a rorschach of mystery stains, and the only other customer was a middle-aged tourist gawking at a latex corset-laden mannequin.

Nancy was nonplussed.

“Do you have any rings?” Nancy bounced up to the counter, remarkably graceful in her steel-toed boots. “ _Engagement_ rings,” she specified, with a wink at Jonathan.

“Ay, congrats,” said the salesman, an old vaguely-Italian guy with fingers full of gold rings that looked like they must be cutting off his circulation. “For the bride.”

He unlocked the display case and dumped a few trays on the counter.

“And the groom? He want one too?”

Nancy eyed her fiancé. “ _Does_ the groom?”

Jonathan shrugged. “I’ll take a look.”

Like an archaeologist, Nancy got to work excavating the perfect ring. There was an assortment of costume jewelry she disregarded off the bat, though she was tempted by a giant fake aquamarine Holly would probably like. The first _serious_ contender to catch her eye was gold with a cluster of garnets arranged like a flower, but it slid right off her finger. Next was a chunky art deco piece; its square diamond flanked on all sides by sapphires. Not exactly something one could wear monster hunting. And Nancy wasn’t plan on taking her ring off. Ever.

Meanwhile, Jonathan was busy being upsold by the guy, who, when he wasn’t disparaging Jonathan’s lack of taste, was insisting they needed wedding bands. Nancy shook her head, holding back a snort. Best to focus on the task at hand.

There was the solitaire ruby set in an elaborate filigree that only fit her pinky. An emerald cut diamond that reached her knuckle. An oval onyx cocktail ring that she liked, but didn’t look especially engagement-y.

And then.

It was a diamond, but a teensy one. The diamonds on the twenty-first birthday earrings from her mother were probably bigger. But the setting was engraved with intricate shapes, like petals unfurling, or the corona of the sun, and something about the effect made her chest ache.

Nancy slid it over her left ring finger. She kept a poker face. It might not fit. It might be too expensive. It might—

“This one.” She heard herself saying.

“That one’s gonna be— ”

“We’ll take it,” Jonathan interrupted, suddenly behind her with a grounding hand on her shoulder. “Wait outside?”

Nancy nodded. Her heart swelled.

 

“So,” Nancy tossed her hair, showily admiring the way her ring caught in the sun, “I’m taking a cab to buy my dress, and I’ll meet you there.”

“We’re not going together?”

She patted him on the cheek, adoringly. “I need your jaw to be fully dropping when you see me. That’s the bedrock upon which our marriage will rest.”

“It’s not like I’m suddenly going to get sick of looking at you,” Jonathan grumbled. “Wait, what am I supposed to wear?”

Nancy looked him up and down. “I dunno, what’s wrong with what you have on?”

“For starters, it has a non-negligible amount of blood on it.”

“But you’re so dreamy when you’re grungy,” she cooed.

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll pick something up.”

Nancy kissed him. She’d meant it chastely, but she couldn’t help but slip a little tongue. And nibble on his lower lip. And—

“I should buy you jewelry more often,” Jonathan joked, pulling away. “But right now we’ve got an appointment to keep.”

“Oh, that.” Nancy pulled a pamphlet from her purse. “This is the one I picked.”

“The ‘Hunk of Burning Love’ Chapel and Casino…” He trailed off, eyes narrowing. “You really think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I’ve been promised they have non-Elvis officiants. No take-backsies!” Nancy waggled her ring in his face, but he took her hand and kissed it. She wrinkled her nose.

“Being engaged makes you so dorky. How do people do this for months at a time?”

“Most people don’t have the practice you do threatening minimum wage chapel-slash-casino employees.”

“I didn’t threaten,” Nancy scoffed. “I merely strongly communicated my desires. And I’m going to give the guy a huge tip, so the customer service gods can’t smite me.”

Jonathan smiled. He smoothed his hand over her hair.

“You’re going to marry me. We’re getting married.”

“Yeah,” she said, slowly. “That’s why we spent our rent money on rings, despite being intelligent people who know about artificial scarcity and blood diamonds and all that.”

His face fell. “Do you think that’s a blood diamond?”

“It’s old, so I’d hazard a no. Besides, we didn’t give our money to De Beers, your punk cred remains in tact.”

“I gave up my punk cred when I started dating a girl who listens to Mariah Carey.”

Nancy snorted. “I can and will change our wedding song to _Vision of Love_. Don’t test me.”

“God, I love you.”

“Even when I make you listen to Top 40?”

“Especially.”

“Ooh.” Nancy took her reporters pad out of her bag. “That’s _so_ going in the vows.”

 

 

> _Goin' to the chapel and we're gonna get married_
> 
> _Goin' to the chapel and we're gonna get married_
> 
> _Gee, I really love you_
> 
> _And we're gonna get married_
> 
> _Goin' to the chapel of love!_

“I’ve never believed in true love.” Nancy swallowed desperately, anxiously thumbing the hem of her lace minidress. “Not since I was sixteen years old and… well, a whole lot of shit happened.”

Her gaze darted nervously to the petite, bespectacled officiant, like, what, he wasn’t going to marry them now that she’d cursed? But the guy nodded his encouragement, gentle and understanding, and Nancy took a steadying breath.

“You didn’t change that. You only made it more clear… ” _—god his eyes were so dark and rich and he was wearing dress pants for once which was weirdly sexy—_ “That love is more than that. It’s commitment. Partnership. Compromise.”

Jonathan snorted and she resisted the urge to shush him.

“Obviously, I love you. I don’t have to tell you that.” Nancy could feel her face getting hot. “But I’m not marrying you because of that. Or, well, not just because of that. You know?”

She grabbed his pinky with her own, unable to look him in the eyes, swaying slightly.

“Some people have that crazy love, the kind where they would burn down the world to be together. And some people can settle for a solid partnership, a deal where both parties gain something.”

Jonathan grabbed her waist, rubbing a reassuring thumb over her ribs.

“We’re so lucky— so fucking lucky it blows my mind. Because I love you so much I— well, I get a migraine just trying to conceptualize it so I won’t try to right now, because I really plan on enjoying this honeymoon.” She giggled a watery giggle, blinking rapidly to stop the incipient flow of tears. “And because, on top of that, you’re the best partner anyone could ask for.”

Nancy peered up at him. Unlike herself, Jonathan seemed calm. Relaxed in a way he never was. Happy.

“So, yeah.” She tittered again, swiping quickly at her dripping nose. “Let’s do this thing.”

“And you?” The officiant prompted, nodding towards Jonathan.

“Ditto,” he deadpanned.

Nancy swatted at his shoulders. “Go on,” she hissed.

“You’re my favorite person in the world, Nancy. There isn’t that much more to it, except now I can visit you in the hospital and put you down on my taxes. Well, and… I’m looking forward to eternity with you. You know?”

Now she really was crying, Nancy noted dimly, realizing her neck was somehow wet with tears.

“Yeah.” Nancy nodded, tasting saltwater on the frosty lipstick she’d so carefully applied. “I know.”

He kissed the bride and the organ started playing, and an old lady in a pantsuit with a crackly mic started singing—

 

_Watching every motion_

_In my foolish lover's game_

_On this endless ocean_ …

 

“God, I though the _Top Gun_ thing was a _joke_ ,” Jonathan muttered into her neck as the officiant announced them man and wife, or whatever.

 

_Finally lovers know no shame_

_Turning and returning_

_To some secret place inside_ …

 

“I never joke,” Nancy insisted, her angular jaw set, even as her eyes were bright and sparkling. “Dance with me?”

 

_Watching in slow motion_

_As you turn around and say_...

 

“I don’t remember that particular demand being in the _vows—_ ”

Nancy snorted, pulling his arms around her.

“Consider it my first amendment.”

“Well, when you put it like _that…_ ” Jonathan smirked, though they were already fully intertwined, swaying to music he’d hate in any other circumstance but was, in this moment, maybe the best thing he’d ever heard.

 

_Take my breath away..._

_Take my breath away._

**Author's Note:**

> Big ups to stoprobbers, without whom this would never have left my WIP folder. Hope you liiiiiiiike it! 
> 
> Tracklisting: Viva Las Vegas- Elvis Presley, Wives and Lovers- Dionne Warwick, Chapel of Love- The Dixie Cups, Take My Breath Away- Berlin


End file.
